Free Breakwater Bay by Shelley Noble Page B

were all filled with love, reassuring, and insisting that nothing was any different than it had always been. They were wonderful and it was exhausting.
    She went to bed and the calls played over and over in her mind. They loved her, she had no doubt of that. But it was still a lot to take in.
    M eri awoke Monday morning, dragged out and not ready to face the world. She contemplated calling in sick, but that was crazy. She needed to get some distance on this, and work would get her back on an even keel. Work was the one thing she could lose herself in, where she wouldn’t have to think about anything that was happening in her life.
    So what if cleaning away layers of paint with a solution of vinegar and water was on the tedious side. Today she was thankful to be studying someone else’s past rather than her own. She was heartily sick of thinking about herself.
    Fortunately her ceiling had been pronounced lead free, unlike the walls she had taken samples from wearing toxin-resistant overalls, latex gloves, and a respirator. By now most everything on the first floor was close to being documented. She’d started alternating between sampling and cleaning. With most of the sampling finished, she could concentrate solely on her ceiling.
    If they passed the next lead and asbestos test, they would be home free. At least with the ceiling declared lead free, she wouldn’t have to suit up; and it meant that there wouldn’t be that many layers of paint to clean away before getting to the original pattern.
    Last Friday had been the first day she’d begun to have an idea of what it might look like. She’d started at one edge of the circular area last week and was working a grid toward the center in order to reveal more of the full pattern.
    This was hindered because the ceiling was embellished by ornamental plaster decorations, their intricate designs made more difficult to discern by the sloppy overpainting, and the cleaning had to be executed gently to avoid breaking off delicate details.
    The morning passed quickly; she was back in the zone as more and more of the pattern revealed itself. She hardly thought about anything but what the ceiling would look like when she was finished. And then she’d knock on the wooden scaffolding that they would get the rest of the funds needed to bring the house back to its former glory.
    She lost track of time until Carlyn yelled, “Hey, you,” from below her. “It’s almost two. Come have lunch with me.”
    Meri had been ignoring the rumblings in her stomach for the last hour. She’d had a carton of yogurt at six that morning while she read the latest issue of Preservation magazine. That was hours ago. She hadn’t brought lunch.
    “Can you order—”
    “Already did. Now come down.”
    Meri secured her tools and climbed down. The woodworkers were already back at work after their lunch break. The paint had been stripped under the careful eyes of the EPA several weeks ago. Beneath it, golden oak window and door frames were being repaired or replaced with the help of several interns.
    She cleaned up and joined Carlyn at the kitchen table. Doug’s desk, which occupied the far corner, was piled high with papers, but it was missing their director.
    Meri and Carlyn had the kitchen to themselves.
    “So what’s new?” Carlyn asked.
    Meri gave her a look. “What’s for lunch?”
    “Turkey and Swiss on a croissant, and roast beef and brie with mustard on an egg roll.” She slid the roast beef toward Meri. “And spring mix salad to get in our green quota.” She pushed a Styrofoam bowl across the table, then reached in the fridge for two bottles of water.
    Meri unwrapped her sandwich and glanced at Carlyn. “You look tired.”
    “Probably from spending most of yesterday looking for ways to squeeze more than a hundred pennies out of every dollar.”
    “Are we going to run out of money?”
    Carlyn finished chewing and wiped a smear of mayonnaise off her mouth. “You should know by now